Page 174 of The Bittersweet Bond

He had been out with the guys. The night was a blur—a mix of too much beer, vodka, and a stupid attempt to forget everything.

Sergej, the fight, Evin—it had all hung over him like a dark cloud, and he had hoped the alcohol would drown it out. But now? Now it just felt worse.

He had looked for her after the fight—searched every corner of the damn venue—but she was already gone. And he knew why. She was probably so fucking angry with him, she couldn’t even stand to watch.

They hadn’t spoken since. Not a word.

The guys told him to let it sit for a bit, give her space. They’d noticed too, that she’d left early. Probably pissed, they said. Who could blame her?

Bas hadn’t told anyone the real reason behind the fight. Not one word about why he’d snapped. Why he’d lost control.

Dominic had celebrated the whole thing like it was a damn highlight reel—going on and on about the punch, the chaos, the way Sergej hit the floor.

But Ben… and Jonas? They had looked at him differently. Said nothing, but watched him like they knew there was more. Like they were just waiting for the truth to crack through the silence.

Running a hand down his face, he scrolled through his messages. Nothing. No calls, no texts. Evin hadn’t reached out.

Not once.

Since yesterday night, she hadn’t even asked about him.

Ugh!A sharp pang shot through him—a mix of disappointment and something that felt dangerously close to hurt.Why didn’t she check on me? She saw me. She knows how it ended.

He shook his head, forcing himself to get up. Fuck! A stabbing pain shot through his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts for a second. Drunk and reckless, he must’ve overstrained it yesterday.

Man, she’s worse off than I am. This isn’t about me. Stop acting like a damn kid. Stop whining about your shoulder.

Bas pulled a clean T-shirt over his head, ignoring the wrinkled button-down from last night still lying on the floor. Then, grabbing his phone, he typed out a message:

Bas

Hey. I’m so sorry it took me this long to text.

Last night was too much, and I screwed up.

I wanted to see you this morning, but I just... couldn’t get it together.

Can we talk?

He hit send, staring at the screen for a moment before dropping back onto the bed. Timedragged, thick and slow like honey, as he waited. But his phone stayed silent.

Bas

I’ll make it right.

I promise.

Still, nothing.

__________

Evin

The weight of her grip pressed into the windowsill as she stared outside, as if anchoring herself to something solid. The sun streamed warmly through the curtains, yet its warmth never quite reached her.

She had been checking her phone for hours. Nothing. Not even a short message.

Of course not. What did you expect?

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